𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄. how villains are made

TORY LEANED HEVILY AGAINST THE cold metal railing of the second floor, her gaze fixed on the chaos below. The match had ended in shambles for Miyagi-Do, and the aftermath had been even messier — a whirlwind of accusations, shouting, and raw emotions that now lingered like smoke after a fire. Tory felt a pang of something she couldn't quite name as she watched Jieun storm off, her words like knives carving through Demetri and Eli.

Miyagi-Do was unraveling at the seams, and it was painful to watch, even for her. She shifted her weight, her hands gripping the railing tightly, the cool steel biting into her palms. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a question surfaced, unbidden: would things have been different if she'd stayed?

It wasn't the first time she'd wondered. Tory clenched her jaw, trying to push the thought away. She'd made her choice, and she stood by it. Cobra Kai had given her the tools, to fight back against a world that had always seemed stacked against her. But as she watched the remnants of her old team struggling below, a gnawing sense of regret nipped at the edges of her resolve.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a voice beside her, light and airy, cutting through the tense silence like a knife through butter. Tory glanced sideways to see Zara, leaning against the railing with a smug smile, her phone held at the perfect angle for another livestream.

"What's up, my karate squad?" Zara began, her voice saccharine and polished, radiating the kind of confidence that felt more like a performance than something real. "All the way to the quarter-finals, and the queen of karate is still undefeated." She tossed her hair over her shoulder, her grin widening as she winked at her phone. "What's my secret? All day, I work hard."

Tory rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to the arena below. Zara's voice was a constant background hum in her life now, as persistent and grating as a mosquito buzzing in her ear.

"And at night," Zara continued, her tone dropping to something low and conspiratorial, "I play even harder."

The words were accompanied by a sly glance in Tory's direction, but it wasn't until Jieun came into view that the full weight of Zara's insinuation landed. Jieun, her face still set in a stormy expression, was walking past them, her steps quick and purposeful as if she were trying to escape the lingering tension of the arena floor.

Zara tilted her head toward Jieun, her smirk sharpening. Tory's stomach twisted, already anticipating what was coming.

"You know," Zara said, her voice taking on a teasing lilt as she turned to Tory, "some people say the secret to winning isn't just about what you do in the ring. It's about what — or who — you're doing outside of it."

She let the words hang in the air, her smile growing wider as if savoring the bait she'd just thrown out. Her eyes flicked meaningfully toward Jieun, then back to Tory, the insinuation clear as day.

Tory felt her chest tighten, her grip on the railing tightening until her knuckles turned white. Her mind raced, replaying Zara's words over and over.

Because Tory knew the truth. The real truth.

The memory unfolded in Tory's mind like a reel of film she couldn't pause or rewind, each detail as sharp and vivid as if it were happening all over again.

Tory had been sitting near the front, nursing a soda — she had no interest in drinking, not when her guard needed to stay sharp. She'd been watching the room, as she always did, her gaze flitting from face to face, noting the small dramas playing out in the corners. That was when she noticed Robby, leaning against the bar, a drink in his hand and a weariness in his posture that she recognized all too well. And then he stormed out. His face had been a mask of anger and hurt, his movements stiff and bristling as he shoved past the clusters of competitors and staff lingering at the entrance.

Tory had noticed immediately, her instincts honed to pick up on tension like that. She hadn't planned on getting involved — she never did — but then Zara had followed after him, her smile just a little too bright, her steps deliberate in a way that set Tory's teeth on edge.

Jieun had started to go after them too, her expression unreadable but her intent clear. She'd taken one step before Kwon caught her by the arm, murmuring something low and urgent that made her hesitate. Tory had watched as Jieun faltered, torn between moving forward and staying put.

Her gut twisted as she saw Zara disappear down the streets of Barcelona, her presence like a stormcloud waiting to break. Tory hadn't trusted Zara from the moment they'd met — there was something about her, a mix of calculated charm and razor-edged ambition, that always set Tory on edge.

And now, watching her follow Robby with a predatory gleam in her eye, Tory's unease turned into something heavier.

She followed, keeping her distance but close enough to see where they were heading. The streets were lit, the street lights casting long shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly. Tory moved silently, her footsteps muffled by the sounds of the bustling city, her heart pounding harder with each step.

She found them in a secluded corner, near one of the side exits that opened onto a quiet alley. Robby was taking deep breaths, his hands raking through his hair, his frustration palpable even from a distance. Zara was standing nearby, leaning casually against him, her body language deceptively relaxed.

Tory lingered in the shadows, out of sight but close enough to hear.

She watched the whole thing unfold. To Zara's advancements, to Robby's rejection, to her storming off.

Zara's face darkened, her carefully constructed facade cracking. She stood there for a moment, her chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths, and then she turned on her heel and stalked away, her footsteps echoing sharply in the empty corridor.

Tory stayed where she was, waiting until Zara was out of sight before stepping forward. She didn't say anything as she approached Robby, who had slumped against the wall, looking exhausted.

She pushed herself off the wall she hid from, weaving through the debris toward him, her chest tight with anger she couldn't fully explain. Maybe it was because she could see the way Robby's walls were crumbling, the way Zara was slipping through the cracks like poison.

Robby had been too far gone to argue when Tory grabbed him and positioned his arm around her so she could guide them out, too unsteady to even question her presence, as he leaned heavily against her.

The walk back to the hotel was slow and awkward, Robby's weight dragging on her as he stumbled over uneven pavement. He mumbled apologies that Tory barely acknowledged, her focus fixed on getting him to safety. The streets were quiet, the kind of quiet that felt like it might shatter if she let her thoughts wander too far.

When they reached the hotel, Tory stopped at the edge of the hallway, letting Robby find his footing as she stepped back. He stood there swaying, his head tilted as though trying to process her retreat. She didn't trust herself to follow him any further, didn't trust what she might see if she walked him all the way to his room.

But she waited, leaning against the wall as she watched him shuffle down the hallway. He reached his door and leaned against it, his body sliding down until he was sitting on the floor, his head resting against the frame. He didn't even try to open it.

Tory stayed until she was certain he wasn't going to move again, then turned and walked away, the weight in her chest heavier than ever.

And now, as she watched Zara smirking at her, she gripped the railing again, her knuckles white as she stared.

Zara had taken that night and turned it into a weapon, and Jieun was the one bleeding for it. The truth sat heavy in Tory's chest, a burden she hadn't figured out how to share. But she knew one thing for certain — she wasn't going to let Zara win. Not again.

The tension in the air snapped like a taut wire, sending a shiver down Tory's spine as she stormed forward. Zara's voice still echoed in her ears, smug and saccharine, dripping with the practiced charm that made her so infuriatingly untouchable. But Tory had had enough. Enough of the games, the manipulation, and the lies that Zara spun so effortlessly.

She didn't hesitate. Her hand shot out, swift and deliberate, snatching Zara's phone from her grasp before she could react. The polished veneer of control on Zara's face faltered for a split second, her lips parting in shock. Tory's reflection glared back at her from the screen as she turned the phone toward herself, her sharp eyes locking with the lens.

The livestream's comment feed ticked by in rapid motion, hearts and emojis flooding the screen as Zara's followers tuned in. Tory's voice cut through the din like a blade.

"It's true," she began, her tone low and dangerous, carrying the weight of every ounce of rage simmering in her chest. "Zara's real secret? She's a two-faced bitch who doesn't give a damn about her so-called karate sisters. Unless, of course, she can use them — or their boyfriends — for her own gain."

The words spilled out, venomous and unrelenting. Tory didn't care about the shock that rippled through the livestream audience or the frantic motion of Zara's hands as she reached for her phone. It was too late. Tory had seized the moment, and she wasn't letting go.

Zara's protest was drowned out by Tory's voice, which rose in intensity, sharp and cutting. "Maybe you should know she's a manipulative liar who twists the truth to fit her narrative. She'll throw anyone under the bus if it means coming out on top. That's the kind of person you're worshiping. A fraud."

Jieun froze mid-step, her attention snapping toward the scene unfolding before her. She had been on her way to clear her head, to find some solace in the chaos that had gripped Miyagi-Do, but the sound of Tory's voice — sharp as broken glass — pulled her back.

Zara lunged for the phone, her face twisting in panic. "Give it back!" she hissed, her voice high-pitched and strained. But Tory dodged her easily, holding the device out of reach like it was a prize in some cruel game.

Tory smirked, the glint of defiance in her eyes only sharpening. "What's wrong, Zara? Afraid your little army of followers might see you for who you really are?" Her words were a taunt, each one laced with a vindictive satisfaction that made Zara's desperation all the more evident.

Jieun's steps slowed, her chest tightening as she watched the scene unfold. The truth of Tory's words wasn't lost on her — she could feel the weight of them like a stone in her gut. This public display of fury was something else entirely.

Zara lunged again, her movements frantic, but this time Tory relented, tossing the phone back. It landed with a sharp crack on the tiled floor, the screen fracturing on impact. The livestream remained active, the fragmented screen still capturing Zara's horrified expression.

The sound seemed to echo through the space, drawing Jieun's focus fully to Zara's face. She saw it then — the fear. Zara wasn't just panicked; she was unraveling. Her polished exterior, the one she wore like armor, was crumbling before their eyes.

Jieun didn't stop to think. She moved forward, her steps deliberate, the anger that had been simmering since the bar flaring to life. Zara's gaze snapped to her, wide and pleading, but Jieun's fiery eyes didn't waver.

Without a word, Jieun pushed Zara square in the chest, the force of it sending her stumbling back. The phone skidded further across the floor, still live, capturing the moment Zara landed hard against the railing.

Zara looked down at her phone, the cracks spiderwebbing across the screen like a metaphor for her shattered control. The comment feed was still scrolling, the words blurring together, but Jieun could feel the shift. The audience wasn't on Zara's side anymore.

The moment the truth settled in Jieun's mind, it was like a dam breaking, a torrent of fury flooding every part of her. She didn't need Tory to say anything more; the pieces had clicked into place with agonizing clarity. The humiliation of being manipulated, of believing Zara's carefully constructed lies, ignited something feral within her.

She turned on Zara, her movements swift and deliberate, her anger unrelenting.

Zara barely had time to react before Jieun closed the distance between them. Her hand shot out, tangling itself in Zara's sleek, meticulously styled hair. Zara let out a sharp yelp as Jieun yanked her forward, the sound echoing in the open space of the arena's upper floor. It wasn't a precise move, nothing born from their training or honed martial arts skills. It was something raw and primal, a manifestation of betrayal and rage.

The phone, forgotten now, clattered against the floor once more as Zara flailed, her hands grasping at Jieun's wrist in a futile attempt to free herself. But Jieun was relentless, her grip tightening as she leaned in, her voice low and venomous.

"You conniving little snake," Jieun hissed, her voice low but deadly. She yanked Zara closer, her nails scraping against the other girl's scalp as she tightened her grip.

Zara squirmed, her polished exterior utterly shattered. Her shoes scuffed against the tiles as she tried to regain her footing, but Jieun held her firm, tugging her closer with a viciousness that made Zara whimper.

"You're pathetic," Jieun spat. "A pathetic, desperate little girl who can't stand the idea of someone else shining brighter than you."

Her grip tightened, the motion sending Zara's head jerking sideways. Strands of hair began to slip free from Zara's neat ponytail, tangling between Jieun's fingers. It wasn't graceful or poised — it was chaotic, messy, the kind of fight that felt like watching two feral cats clawing at each other in the dead of night.

Zara whimpered, her wide eyes darting around the arena, searching for anyone to step in, but no one did. Tory stood a few steps away, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. She didn't intervene — there was a satisfaction in watching Zara finally get what she deserved, in seeing the tables turn so dramatically.

Zara's voice came out in stammers, broken and desperate. "Stop! You don't under—" But Jieun yanked her closer again, cutting her off. She leaned in so that her voice was only audible to Zara, her words sharp enough to pierce skin.

"If you think this is over, you're dumber than you look," she said, her voice icy. "You've made an enemy out of me, and I promise you, you're going to regret it."

Zara's breathing hitched, her panic palpable. The comment feed on her shattered phone continued to scroll somewhere on the floor, a silent witness to her unraveling. Jieun jerked her head once more for emphasis, the motion making Zara stumble.

With one final, forceful tug, Jieun released Zara, sending her stumbling back against the railing. Zara's hands flew to her head, frantically smoothing her disheveled hair, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

The moment hung heavy between them, the air thick with tension. Zara's wide, tear-filled eyes darted between Jieun and Tory, searching for some kind of reprieve, but none came. Jieun stared her down, her expression cold and unforgiving, while Tory merely tilted her head, her arms still crossed, her silence more damning than words.

Jieun turned sharply on her heel, her footsteps echoing like a death knell as she stormed away. She didn't spare Zara another glance, didn't care to see the fallout of her actions. The betrayal, the humiliation, the anger — it all swirled within her like a tempest, but for now, she felt an ounce of satisfaction.

Behind her, Zara slid to the floor, her legs buckling beneath her as she clutched her shattered phone. The screen flickered, the livestream still active, though the comment feed had turned hostile. Accusations, jeers, and laughing emojis filled the feed, each one another crack in Zara's carefully constructed persona.

Tory finally moved, stepping forward and crouching down beside Zara, her shadow casting over the other girl. "Told you," she said softly, her voice laced with a quiet triumph. Then, without another word, she rose, leaving Zara to crumble under the weight of her own lies.

THE TEAM HUDDLED CLOSE AS DANIEL LaRusso stood at the center of the group, his expression determined but calm. He exuded the kind of confidence that could stabilize even the most fractured of teams.

"So, we need to win this one to stay in the tournament," Daniel began, his voice steady. His gaze moved from one team member to the next, pausing long enough to let his words sink in. "We know it's hard with Silver here, but we're not fighting his team right now."

There was a subtle shift in the group. Shoulders squared a little more, breaths deepened, and jaws set with renewed determination.

Johnny Lawrence nodded, stepping forward to add his characteristic bluntness. "Yeah, and we've all heard this garbage going around about loyalty." He made a sweeping motion, his voice rising slightly, as if daring anyone to disagree. "Almost all of us trained somewhere else at some point. What matters is where our asses are now." He paused, his sharp eyes scanning the group. "And where are they now?"

"Miyagi-Do," several voices replied, their tones unified.

Johnny smirked, satisfied. "Damn right. We're Miyagi-Do. Got it?"

The group was in much better spirits than before, the earlier tension from their loss beginning to dissolve. Miguel clapped his hands together, his voice infused with energy. "Come on, guys, let's go!" he encouraged, his usual optimism pulling them further from the edge.

As the team dispersed, heading to their positions, Jieun lingered for a moment. She adjusted the black belt around her waist, tightening them with deliberate care. Just as she began to follow the others, a tap on her shoulder drew her attention.

She turned, her brow furrowing when she saw Sensei Chozen standing a few paces away. He was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his hands clasped awkwardly behind his back.

"Sensei?" Jieun asked, tilting her head slightly, curiosity flashing in her dark eyes.

Chozen coughed, a rough, abrupt sound that immediately put Jieun on alert. Something was off. He seemed oddly nervous, his usual composed demeanor nowhere to be found.

"Jieun," he began, his voice unusually formal. "I... need to speak with you."

Jieun raised an eyebrow. The entire team had just been there for the huddle. Why now? "Why didn't you just say whatever this is to the group?" she asked, crossing her arms.

Chozen hesitated, clearing his throat again. "This is... a personal matter," he said stiffly, avoiding her gaze.

Her curiosity shifted into suspicion. Sensei Chozen rarely concerned himself with personal matters, at least not openly. "Okay," she said slowly, dragging the word out. "What's up?"

Chozen shifted again, his discomfort evident. "First, I want you to know... you are an excellent student. Your discipline and skill —"

"Is this going somewhere?" Jieun interrupted, her patience wearing thin.

"Yes," He replied, his voice rising slightly in haste. "I want to express..." He paused, glancing around to make sure no one else was within earshot. "Regret."

"Regret?" Jieun repeated, now thoroughly confused.

"About... my actions," Chozen continued, still refusing to look her in the eye. "With your family."

Jieun's arms dropped to her sides, her stomach sinking. "My family?" she echoed, her tone sharper now. "What about my family?"

Chozen let out a long, beleaguered sigh, as if preparing for a death sentence. "Your aunt," he said finally, the words rushed and barely above a whisper. "Sensei Kim."

Jieun froze. The name hung in the air between them like a firework waiting to explode.

"What about her?" Jieun asked, her tone low and dangerous. Chozen hesitated, then mumbled something incoherent. "What was that?" Jieun demanded, stepping closer.

"I... spent the night with her," Chozen blurted out, his face immediately turning a deep shade of red.

Jieun's jaw dropped. For a moment, she was too stunned to speak. Then, as the full weight of his confession hit her, her face twisted in a mix of disgust and disbelief. "Oh my god," she said, stepping back as if physical distance could somehow erase the mental image now seared into her brain. "Are you serious right now?"

Chozen, still avoiding her gaze, nodded solemnly. "I did not know... at first," he admitted. "But after... she told me. I feel great shame."

Jieun groaned, pressing the heels of her hands to her temples. "What the hell?" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of exasperation and disbelief.

"I know," Chozen said quickly, holding up his hands as if to ward off her growing horror. "I know! And I regret it deeply."

"You regret it?" Jieun repeated, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You didn't realize during — oh my god, I can't even finish that sentence."

Chozen winced. "It was a mistake," he said firmly. "One I will not repeat."

Jieun threw her hands up. "Good! Please don't! Because I will never recover from this conversation."

There was a moment of silence as Chozen shifted uncomfortably under her glare. Then, to Jieun's surprise, he coughed again — this time with a note of genuine embarrassment — and added, "Your aunt... is very skilled."

Jieun gagged audibly, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Nope! Nope! We're done here!" she said, turning on her heel and storming off.

Chozen called after her, his voice tinged with both apology and desperation. "Please do not tell the others!"

"Trust me. I'm taking this shit to my grave!" she shouted over her shoulder, still reeling from the encounter.

As she walked away, she tried to shake the lingering disgust, but the mental image refused to leave her. It wasn't until she rejoined the others, the energy of the upcoming match drawing her focus, that she began to push it to the back of her mind.

But even as she took her place among her teammates, her thoughts flickered back to Chozen's awkward confession, and she found herself suppressing a horrified laugh. Of all the things to happen in the middle of a high-stakes tournament, this had to be the most bizarre.

Miyagi-Do was matched against the Redentores. The stakes couldn't have been higher — one more loss, and their journey in the Tournament of Champions would be over.

The announcer's voice boomed through the arena, but Jieun barely registered his words. Her focus was on Miguel, who stepped forward to take the lead. His movements were steady, purposeful, as he bowed to the referee and squared up against his opponent. The energy shifted in the arena, a collective hush settling over the spectators as the match began.

Miguel moved with the ease of someone who knew his craft inside and out. Each strike, each block, seemed almost effortless, as if he were dancing to a rhythm only he could hear. His opponent tried to match his pace, but Miguel was relentless, his attacks landing with calculated precision. Jieun's chest tightened as she watched, not with fear, but with a quiet awe at his mastery.

He held his own, defending and countering with such skill that even the Redentores fighters seemed momentarily caught off guard. When the opportunity came, Miguel stepped back, turning to the edge of the mat where the rest of the team stood waiting. His hand extended, tagging Robby with a firm slap, and as Robby entered the ring, Miguel gave him a reassuring pat on the back.

Jieun's eyes narrowed as she watched Robby take his place. There was a tension in her that she couldn't quite shake, a flicker of doubt rooted in the memory of his earlier slip-up. But as he moved, the doubt began to fade.

Robby radiated confidence. He stepped onto the mat as if it were his home, his movements sharp and deliberate, his strikes carrying a force that demanded attention. He met his opponent with an intensity that left no room for error, each blow landing with a precision that drew murmurs of approval from the crowd. Jieun's shoulders relaxed incrementally with each passing moment, her faith in him growing stronger.

Then came the moment of decision.

The rules dictated that no one could remain in the ring indefinitely, and Robby knew he had to tag out. He glanced toward Eli, who stood at the edge of the mat, eager but perhaps too hesitant. She could see the deliberation in Robby's eyes, the flicker of doubt as he weighed his options. But instead of faltering, he turned decisively and extended his hand toward Kenny.

Kenny's eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't hesitate. He slapped Robby's hand and stepped into the ring, his movements careful but purposeful. This was his moment, and he seemed determined to prove himself, not just to the team but to everyone watching.

Jieun's heart swelled as she watched him. Kenny fought with a quiet intensity, his strikes sharp and unrelenting, his defense solid. Each movement was measured, his breathing steady as he faced his opponent with unflinching focus. For a moment, the arena seemed to hold its breath, the tension so thick it was almost palpable.

He exhaled slowly, his chest rising and falling as he prepared for the next. There was no hesitation in him now, no flicker of doubt. He stepped forward, his gaze fixed on his opponent, and continued to fight.

Jieun's chest tightened again, but this time with pride. Kenny was proving his worth with every move, his loyalty to Miyagi-Do evident in the way he carried himself. It wasn't just about the points or the win — it was about belonging, about showing everyone that he was as much a part of the team as anyone else.

The second point came swiftly, another well-executed strike that sent his opponent sprawling. The referee's flag went up again, signaling the score: Miyagi-Do: two. Redentores: zero.

Kenny was on a roll. His confidence had grown with each step, his movements becoming faster, sharper, more deliberate. He didn't tag out. Jieun could see the strain beginning to creep into his stance, the faint tremor in his arms as he blocked another strike, but he didn't falter.

And then it happened.

A perfectly timed kick landed squarely against his opponent's chest, sending them stumbling backward. The referee raised his flag for the final time, and the announcer's voice boomed through the arena: "Miyagi-Do wins!"

The roar of the crowd was deafening, a cacophony of cheers and applause that echoed off the walls of the arena. Kenny stood frozen for a moment, his chest heaving as the realization of what he'd done sank in. Then, in a blur of motion, the team rushed toward him, their arms wrapping around him in a collective embrace.

Jieun watched from the edge of the mat as they lifted Kenny off the ground, his face breaking into a wide, unrestrained grin. She clapped along with the rest of them, her heart swelling with a mix of pride and relief. As they paraded him around the mat, her gaze found Robby, standing near the edge of the mat.

He wasn't shouting or cheering like the others, though his expression was softer than usual. His eyes caught hers, a silent exchange of emotions too layered to put into words: relief, pride, and something unspoken that made her breath catch. Without thinking, Jieun stepped forward, weaving her way through the crowd until she stood before him.

Her arms opened instinctively, and Robby didn't hesitate. He pulled her into his embrace, his grip firm but warm, as though holding her together even as the adrenaline still coursed through them both. She felt his strength in the way his arms wrapped around her, steadying and grounding, and for a moment, the arena fell away.

Then, in a burst of energy that took her by surprise, Robby spun her around, his laugh low and genuine, vibrating against her. Jieun's giggles spilled out, unrestrained and infectious, echoing through the arena. Her arms tightened around him as she was lifted off the ground, her head tilting back as joy bubbled over, dissolving every lingering trace of tension.

When he finally set her down, their faces were so close she could feel the warmth of his breath. Her hands slid from his shoulders to his face, cupping his jaw as she leaned in. The kiss was quick, featherlight, but it carried the weight of their shared understanding, their quiet resilience. She pulled back just enough to murmur, her voice barely audible over the cheers around them, "Congratulations, captain."

A flicker of surprise crossed Robby's face, quickly replaced by a grin that softened the sharp edges of his expression. His forehead pressed lightly against hers for a moment before they separated, still tethered by the gravity of the moment.

The announcer's voice cut through the din, his tone authoritative but tinged with excitement. "With the win, Miyagi-Do moves to 1-1. If they win their next match, they advance to the Tournament of Champions!"

The crowd erupted once more, and Jieun turned to take in the scene. Kenny was still being carried by the team, his grin now bordered on disbelief. Sam and Miguel were at the center of the commotion, laughing as they struggled to hold him steady. Devon clapped enthusiastically from the side, her face flushed with excitement. Even Eli, who had been so hesitant earlier, wore a broad smile, his usual intensity tempered by a rare moment of camaraderie.

But Jieun's gaze kept drifting back to Robby, who had stepped beside her, his arm brushing hers.

As the team finally set Kenny back on his feet, Jieun watched as he was surrounded by pats on the back and ruffled hair. Kenny's grin had softened into something more reflective, and when his eyes met hers, he gave a small nod, one that said more than any words could.

THE LOCKER ROOM WAS A STARK CONTRAST to the energy of the arena. The drab, cinderblock walls closed in around them, their gray monotony broken only by the soft, filtered blue light seeping through a narrow window high above the benches. The air was heavy with a quiet tension, the exhilaration of their recent win fading under the weight of what was to come. Shoes squeaked faintly on the tiled floor, and the muffled sounds of the ongoing tournament buzzed beyond the thick door, a world both distant and imminent.

No one said much at first. They sat scattered across the benches, towels draped over shoulders, hands on knees. The room smelled faintly of sweat and damp fabric, a scent familiar to all of them but no less oppressive in moments like this. Even the celebratory noise of their earlier victory felt far away, as if it had belonged to someone else entirely.

The reality was sinking in. One more match. One more battle to determine whether they would move forward or fall just short of the final stage. The weight of that truth pressed down on them, unspoken but palpable, until Robby's voice cut through the silence.

"Come on, guys. We beat Cobra Kai before. We can do it again."

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, looking at each of them in turn. His tone was steady, a deliberate calm meant to reassure, though there was a fire in his eyes that betrayed his own nerves.

Miguel nodded, his jaw tight with determination. "One more time," he said, his voice low but resolute. He straightened and looked around the room, his gaze lingering on each teammate as he spoke the next words. "Let's send our captains into the finals."

Sam, seated nearest to the window, glanced down at the captain's headband in her hands. She turned it over slowly, the fabric soft against her fingertips, its weight feeling oddly heavier than it had before. Her voice was quiet, hesitant, but it carried through the room.

"One last time." Her eyes flickered to Jieun, who was seated across from her, leaning back against the lockers. "Win or lose, this is the last time we'll ever fight together as a team."

The words settled over them like a blanket of realization, heavy and inescapable.

Jieun's heart twisted at the thought. She hadn't allowed herself to think that far ahead — not past the next match, the next point. But now, faced with Sam's words, the truth was undeniable. This wasn't just about advancing in the tournament; it was about saying goodbye to something that had become an inseparable part of all of them.

Miguel exhaled sharply, the sound breaking the fragile silence. Tears rimmed his eyes, and he wiped at them quickly, as though trying to deny their presence. "Damn," he muttered, his voice thick. "I guess I never thought about it like that. After everything we've been through, this is..." He trailed off, his voice cracking slightly before he let out a small, broken laugh. "This is it."

A sniffle cut through the quiet, and everyone's heads turned in unison toward the source. Jieun.

She coughed, trying to mask the sound, but her cheeks flushed, betraying her embarrassment. For a moment, she looked as though she might brush it off, bury it under one of her usual sharp remarks, but then her expression softened. A sad, knowing smile curved her lips as she looked at the team.

"Okay, fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper but steady. "I'm not gonna pretend I'm not emotional. Because I am." She stood, brushing her palms on her thighs. Her gaze shifted, landing on Miguel, then Robby, then Sam, before sweeping across the rest of the group. "You guys took me in when I didn't deserve it. You taught me what it means to be part of something bigger than myself. And no matter what happens out there — whether we win or lose — I'm proud of us. Of all of you." She paused, her eyes glistening but unwavering. "You made me feel like I belonged. And for that, I'll always be grateful."

The room was silent, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Then, Jieun's lips quirked into a small, determined smile. "One last fight."

Robby grinned at her, his expression softening as he stood. "So," he said, looking around at the team, "how do we wanna go out?"

Miguel breathed deeply, his shoulders rising and falling as he processed the moment. For a heartbeat, no one spoke. Then, Demetri broke the silence, his voice uncertain but carrying an undercurrent of hope.

"Eli?"

Eli shook his head, standing abruptly from his spot on the bench. He turned to Demetri, his face tight with emotion. "Dude," he said, the single word heavy with meaning.

Before Demetri could respond, Eli stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him in a firm, unguarded hug.

"I'm really sorry," Eli said, his voice low and thick with emotion. "I... I didn't mean to hurt you."

Demetri froze for a moment, clearly caught off guard, but then his arms came up to return the hug. They exchanged a few quiet words, their voices too soft to carry, but the tension between them visibly melted.

Jieun watched the exchange with glossy eyes, her heart swelling with a mix of pride and relief. She glanced at Sam, who was still seated by the window, her grip tightening on the captain's headband.

Sam wasn't looking at Eli or Demetri. Her focus was entirely on Jieun, her gaze contemplative and heavy with unspoken thoughts. She turned the headband over in her hands again, the fabric catching the faint blue light from the window.

Sam let out a long, steadying sigh as she stood, the headband still cradled in her hands like a fragile, sacred thing. All eyes turned to her, the expectation of a captain's rally hanging thick in the room.

Jieun, perched on the edge of the bench, crossed her arms and tilted her head, preparing for the usual words of encouragement — something about teamwork, perseverance, or focus. But Sam's gaze didn't carry the same spark it usually did before a speech. There was no fiery intensity or unshakable confidence in her posture. Instead, she looked... reflective, almost solemn.

"I have something I need to say," Sam began, her voice soft but steady, the words laced with an unfamiliar vulnerability. She hesitated, her fingers gripping the fabric of the headband as if drawing strength from it. "I've been thinking about this for a while now," she continued, her eyes scanning the room, meeting each of their gazes briefly. "And I need to be honest with all of you. I'm stepping down as captain."

The room froze, a collective gasp of shock rippling through the team. Jaws dropped, glances darted around, and Jieun, of all people, looked the most bewildered of all.

"What?" Miguel said softly, his eyebrows knitting together.

"You can't be serious," Robby added, his voice laced with concern.

Sam held up a hand to quiet them, her expression unwavering. "I've thought about this long and hard. And it's the right decision. Not just for me, but for all of us."

Jieun blinked, sitting up straighter. Her hands uncrossed, palms flattening against her thighs as if bracing herself. "Sam," she started, her voice hesitant, "what are you talking about? You earned that headband. You've been doing a great job —"

But Sam shook her head, cutting her off gently. "No, Jiji. I haven't."

"Yes, you have," Jieun insisted, leaning forward, her brows furrowed. "You've scored points, you've kept us motivated —"

"Scoring points doesn't make me a leader," Sam interrupted, her voice soft but firm. She stepped closer to Jieun, holding the headband loosely now, like it had become lighter in her hands. "I've done okay on the mat, sure. But I haven't led this team. Not like Robby has." Her gaze flickered to Robby, who looked as taken aback as everyone else. "And not like you have."

Jieun's mouth opened slightly, her words caught somewhere between disbelief and protest. "Sam, that's... no. That's not true. You're the captain. You are the leader."

Sam shook her head again, this time with a faint, bittersweet smile. "Jiji, think about it. Whenever someone here needed advice — real advice — who did they go to? You. Not me."

"That's not —"

"Yes, it is," Sam said, her voice gentle but insistent. "Devon asked you how to handle her nerves before the first round. Kenny came to you about how to improve his technique, not me. And even Demetri — Demetri — asked you if he should apologize to Eli." She paused, her lips quirking into a small, self-deprecating smile. "And you gave him the exact words he needed to hear." Jieun opened her mouth again, but Sam pressed forward, cutting off the protest she could see forming. "Jiji, they listen to you. Every single one of them. Even when they don't realize it, they're watching you, following your example. You're the one they turn to when it matters most. And that's what being a leader is about."

For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint hum of the fluorescent lights and the muffled noise of the tournament outside. Jieun's gaze dropped to the floor, her hands wringing nervously.

"I don't know, Sam," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not... I'm not sure I'm the right person for this."

"You are," Sam said without hesitation, stepping closer. "You've been leading this team since the moment you walked through the doors of Miyagi-Do, whether you realized it or not. And this is my first real captain's decision — stepping aside and letting the person who's already the leader take her rightful place."

The weight of Sam's words settled over Jieun like a tide, overwhelming and undeniable. Her heart ached with a mixture of gratitude and reluctance, the enormity of the moment pressing against her chest.

"Blossom," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, "I don't want to take this from you."

"You're not taking anything," Sam replied, her voice steady and calm. "I'm giving it to you. Because I know it's the right thing to do. For me. For you. For the team."

The two of them stood there, facing each other in the quiet locker room, the rest of the team watching with bated breath. Sam extended the headband, holding it out between them.

"Take it," she said softly, her eyes shining with sincerity. "You've already earned it."

Jieun hesitated for a long moment, her hand hovering over the fabric as if it might burn her. Then, with a deep, shaky breath, she reached out and took it. The headband felt surprisingly light in her hands, the weight of it not in the fabric but in the responsibility it represented.

Sam smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. "Now," she said, stepping back, her voice warm with encouragement, "lead us to victory, Captain."

Jieun's chest tightened, her throat constricting with emotion. But then she straightened, tying the headband firmly around her forehead. She turned to face the rest of the team, her gaze steady and determined.

"Alright," she said, her voice clear and strong. "Let's finish this."

The room erupted into cheers and applause, the team rallying around their new captain. Even Sam joined in, clapping and grinning, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks.

And in that moment, the drab locker room didn't feel so small or oppressive anymore. It felt like a sanctuary, a place where they were united not just as teammates but as family.

THE AIR WAS TAUT, AS IF IT CARRIED the weight of every team's ambitions and fears. The tournament floor stretched before them, its polished surface glinting under the stadium lights, a stage for the battles that would decide their futures. Miyagi-Do gathered on their side, their heads close, their breaths measured but tense. Across the way, Cobra Kai stood like a wall of unyielding force, their expressions sharp, their energy crackling like static.

The announcer's voice rang out, smooth and deliberate, slicing through the tense atmosphere like a blade. "Because both Miyagi-Do and Cobra Kai are one and one, whoever wins this match advances. And whoever loses..." A pause, as though savoring the gravity of the moment. "...is eliminated."

A shiver seemed to pass through the group, invisible but palpable, as they instinctively formed a tight circle. They had done this countless times before, but this one felt different — more fragile, more final. Robby glanced around the group, his jaw set but his eyes betraying a flicker of vulnerability. Sam, standing just beside him, gripped the sleeve of her gi, her hand trembling ever so slightly. Miguel's arms were crossed, his lips pressed into a thin line, and Kenny stood tall but kept glancing at Jieun, who had become the unspoken anchor holding them together.

Daniel stepped forward, his tone calm but firm, the cadence of a sensei. "Alright. Remember: trust, tag, teamwork." His words were simple, yet they carried the weight of the Miyagi-Do philosophy, a reminder of the balance they'd all worked so hard to achieve.

Johnny, standing next to Daniel with his usual rough edge softened just enough by the moment, nodded in agreement. "You got this." He let his gaze move across the group before focusing on Robby. "Who's in first?"

Robby's eyes sharpened, and he nodded once, resolute. The tension in the circle seemed to shift, some of it flowing outward like a slow exhale. Johnny gave him a quick fist bump of encouragement, his knuckles brushing Robby's with a gesture that was both casual and loaded with unspoken trust.

Then Johnny's gaze shifted, landing on Jieun. The headband on her forehead seemed to catch the light, a subtle but undeniable marker of her new role. He smirked, a faint gleam of approval in his eyes. "Alright, Captain," he said, his voice teasing but with an undertone of sincerity. "You got anything to add?"

Jieun froze for a moment, her pulse quickening. The word "captain" still felt foreign, like a borrowed coat that didn't quite fit. But then she saw Sam out of the corner of her eye, standing tall, her expression steady and encouraging. You've already earned it.

Taking a breath, Jieun stepped forward, her hands curling into fists at her sides as she surveyed the team. Her gaze lingered on each of them in turn — Robby, Miguel, Sam, Kenny, Demetri, Eli. Her voice, when it came, was quiet but firm, carrying the measured cadence of someone still learning to wield authority but no less determined for it.

"We should stick to the plan we couldn't finish the first time," Jieun continued. "Robby goes first, and he chooses who's next. If you're on the mat and you think you can't handle it anymore, or if there's no one you think is ready — choose me." Her voice didn't waver, even as she felt the gravity of her statement hanging in the air. "I'll close it out if I have to, or I'll tag in whoever's ready to keep us going. We don't stop until we win. Got it?"

There was a beat of silence, then Robby stepped forward, his jaw tight with determination. "Got it," he said, his voice clear and strong. The others nodded, one by one, their resolve hardening.

"Good," Jieun said, her voice quieter now, but no less certain. "Then let's go out there and show them who we are."

Johnny clapped Robby on the shoulder with a grin. "That's what I'm talking about."

The team broke apart, the tension giving way to a shared sense of purpose. Robby led the way onto the mat, his steps steady and deliberate as the rest of Miyagi-Do fell into place behind him. Across the arena, Cobra Kai stood like a storm waiting to break, their black gis and red insignias gleaming under the harsh lights. The contrast between the two teams was stark, a clash of ideologies that felt almost mythic in its weight.

The crowd erupted in cheers, a deafening roar that filled the space like a wave crashing over them. Jieun's heart pounded as she took her place at the edge of the mat, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Robby stepped into position, his expression calm but focused. Across from him, Tory sauntered forward, her stance as sharp as her gaze. They locked eyes, the unspoken history between them crackling in the air like static electricity.

The referee raised his hand, the whistle poised between his lips. The anticipation in the room was palpable, every sound and movement magnified in the tense silence. Then the whistle blew, and the match began.

Robby moved like water, his strikes fluid and precise as he countered Tory's relentless aggression. She was fast — faster than Jieun remembered — but Robby anticipated her moves with an almost preternatural instinct. The two of them traded blows, the sound of their fists and feet meeting echoing through the arena like drumbeats.

Jieun's eyes never left the match, her gaze following every move with an intensity that left her fingers twitching at her sides. Robby was holding his own, but she could see the strain beginning to creep into his movements — the slight hesitation in his blocks, the tightening of his jaw.

Robby glanced around the group, his jaw set, before his gaze landed on Sam. Without hesitation, he tagged her, signaling her to step onto the mat. She nodded, her expression steeled with resolve, and stepped forward, the cheers and jeers from the crowd blurring into white noise as she locked eyes with Tory.

The two squared off, their histories and rivalries coalescing into a singular moment that carried the weight of years. No words were exchanged as they faced each other; none were needed. The whistle blew, and the match began, their movements sharp and precise, as if choreographed by years of unspoken understanding.

Tory struck first, a rapid series of kicks that Sam deflected with practiced ease, her footwork light but deliberate. Sam retaliated with a spinning strike, her foot grazing Tory's arm as the latter twisted away with a smirk. They moved like mirror images, their styles similar but marked by the distinct philosophies of their dojos. Tory's strikes were brutal and calculated, while Sam's bore the fluidity and precision.

The crowd erupted as the fight intensified, gasps and cheers punctuating every blow. Sam ducked under a high kick, countering with a swift strike that forced Tory to stagger back. The moment of hesitation was enough — Sam surged forward, sweeping Tory's legs out from under her and sending her crashing to the mat.

Before the referee could even signal a pause, Tory extended a hand toward her corner, tagging in Kwon, a hulking presence who stepped onto the mat with an air of intimidation. He rolled his neck, the crack audible even over the crowd, and fixed Sam with a piercing gaze. She blinked, startled by his sheer presence, but her stance remained firm.

Kwon charged, his strikes heavy and relentless. Sam deflected his initial barrage, her movements growing more desperate as the force behind his attacks became apparent. Her feet shuffled backward, and her blocks faltered as Kwon's punches inched closer to breaking through her guard.

And then it happened.

Kwon's fist connected near her chest, the impact sending her stumbling back and forcing the referee to intervene. A point for Cobra Kai.

Sam staggered toward her corner, holding her side as she caught her breath. She looked up at Miguel and he responded with a firm nod. She extended her hand, and he tagged in without hesitation, his expression calm but focused.

Miguel entered the mat, his presence instantly commanding attention. He moved with the ease of someone who had faced insurmountable odds before, his strikes sharp and deliberate as he engaged his opponent. Across from him, a new Cobra Kai member met his attacks with equal ferocity, their exchange a rapid-fire blur of movement.

It wasn't long before Miguel found his opening, a perfectly executed kick landing squarely on his opponent's torso and earning Miyagi-Do another point. The crowd roared, but there was no time to celebrate. The Cobra Kai fighter tagged in a fresh member, a wiry but fierce competitor named Yoon.

Yoon's energy was electric, his movements unpredictable and fast. Miguel's face tightened as he met the onslaught, deflecting Yoon's strikes but unable to find an opening to counter. He glanced toward the corner, his chest heaving, and without hesitation, he tagged in Demetri.

The shift in energy was palpable. Demetri stepped onto the mat with an air of trepidation, his lanky frame and cautious movements a stark contrast to Yoon's sharp and aggressive style. Yoon wasted no time, pressing his advantage with a relentless series of attacks that forced Demetri on the defensive.

Despite his struggles, Demetri held his ground, his blocks growing steadier as he adapted to Yoon's rhythm. It wasn't enough to turn the tide, but it bought him time — time to dart toward his corner and tag in Eli.

The transition was seamless. Eli entered the mat with a fiery determination, his strikes landing with precision as he met Yoon blow for blow. The two moved like forces of nature, their energy colliding in a whirlwind of motion that left the crowd breathless.

But Yoon was relentless, his stamina seemingly endless as he pushed Eli to his limits. Recognizing the need for a fresh approach, Eli tagged Demetri back in, and the cycle began anew. The Miyagi-Do fighters alternated seamlessly, their strategy clear — to exhaust Yoon, to slow him down enough to find an opening.

It was a battle of endurance as much as skill, each tag a calculated move in the intricate chess game unfolding on the mat. Demetri and Eli traded places repeatedly, their coordination a testament to their trust in one another. Slowly but surely, Yoon's movements began to falter, his strikes losing their sharpness as fatigue set in.

Finally, Demetri extended his hand toward Kenny, who stepped onto the mat with a determined nod. Kenny moved with a quiet intensity, his strikes precise and controlled as he took advantage of Yoon's fatigue. But Yoon wasn't out yet; he pushed back with a final surge of energy that forced Kenny to step back, his gaze flickering toward his corner.

Without hesitation, Kenny tagged in Eli once more, the unspoken trust between them evident in the smooth transition. Eli entered the mat with a renewed sense of purpose, his strikes landing with the precision of someone who had been waiting for this moment.

Yoon lunged forward, his arms outstretched in a desperate attempt to regain control, but Eli was ready. He grabbed Yoon's arms, using the momentum to propel himself forward, his feet connecting squarely with Yoon's chest and sending him crashing to the mat.

The referee's whistle blew, signaling another point for Miyagi-Do.

The crowd erupted into cheers, the sound reverberating through the arena like thunder. But amidst the celebration, the team knew the gravity of the moment — they were one point away from victory, and the weight of it hung heavy in the air.

The noise of the crowd — cheers, shouts, stomping feet — faded into a distant roar as Yoon extended his hand toward Kwon.

Kwon stepped onto the mat, his movements slow and deliberate, his gaze locking immediately onto Eli. There was no need for bravado; his sheer size and the calm confidence he exuded spoke volumes. He rolled his shoulders, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

Eli exhaled sharply. From the look in Kwon's eyes, he knew this would be no ordinary bout. Every muscle in his body screamed for rest, but he had no choice. His gaze flickered to his teammates, scanning each of them.

They had all stepped onto the mat, expended themselves against Cobra Kai's relentless force — all except one.

It wasn't even a question.

Eli turned, his hand shooting out toward Jieun, who stood at the edge of the mat.

Jieun didn't hesitate. Her fingers tightened briefly around the new captain's headband on her forehead, the fabric a reminder of everything they were fighting for, before she stepped onto the mat with a calm that belied the storm raging inside her.

Kwon's smirk widened as he watched her approach. "Finally," he drawled, his voice carrying over the din of the arena. His eyes lingered on her headband, the shiny new badge of leadership that hadn't gone unnoticed by Cobra Kai. "What's this? New captain already? That was fast. What'd you do, cry for it?"

Jieun's lips twisted into a sneer, the kind that could cut someone in half. She didn't break stride, her voice icy and sharp. "You talk too much," Jieun tilted her head, her smile growing wider, more dangerous. "Let's find out if you're as tough as that ego of yours — or if you're just the loudest loser in the room."

The crowd gasped, a collective intake of breath at the venom in her words. Even Kwon's smirk faltered for a moment, but only a moment. He squared his shoulders, settling into his stance. Jieun mirrored him, her body coiled and ready.

The whistle blew.

Kwon moved first, a blur of muscle and power as he surged forward, his strike aimed squarely at Jieun's center. She sidestepped, her movements smooth, almost elegant, and countered with a sharp kick that forced him to backpedal. The crowd roared, their excitement spilling into the space like electricity.

The two clashed again, their strikes fast and punishing, each movement calculated to inflict maximum damage. Kwon's attacks were heavy, each one landing with a force that rattled Jieun to her core, but she matched him blow for blow. Her movements were precise, a dance of defiance and control that kept him guessing.

The arena seemed to hold its breath as they circled each other, sweat glistening on their brows, their breathing labored but steady. Kwon lunged again, his fist cutting through the air with brutal intent, but Jieun deflected it, twisting her body to deliver a swift counterstrike that connected with his ribs.

The fight escalated, each clash more intense than the last. Kwon aimed a powerful kick at her back, but Jieun anticipated the move, locking her leg with his in midair and using the momentum to send him stumbling forward. Before he could recover, she spun, her foot connecting with his back in a strike that sent him sprawling.

The crowd erupted, their cheers a deafening wave of sound that seemed to shake the walls of the arena.

Kwon pushed himself up, his movements slower now, his breathing ragged. But he wasn't done. He launched himself at Jieun again, his strikes wild but powerful, forcing her to retreat step by step. She blocked and countered, each move a testament to her skill and resilience, but Kwon's strength was unrelenting.

Finally, he landed a blow — his fist catching her arm and twisting it in a way that drew a sharp cry from her lips. The pain shot through her like fire, but she gritted her teeth, refusing to yield. With her free hand on the ground, she delivered a swift kick to his legs, unbalancing him and sending him crashing to the mat once more.

Kwon roared in frustration, slamming a fist against the mat before climbing to his feet again. He was relentless, and so was she.

They faced each other once more, their bodies battered, their breaths coming in short gasps. The crowd watched in stunned silence, the tension in the air thick enough to taste.

Jieun raised her fists, her stance solid despite the ache in her limbs. She met Kwon's gaze, her expression unreadable but unyielding.

The energy on the mat grew heavier with every exchange, as though the air itself were thickening, suffocating the space between Jieun and Kwon. The arena seemed to shrink around them, all sound fading into a muffled roar as their movements became a vicious blur of strikes and counterstrikes. Each hit was met with equal force, every opening ruthlessly closed.

Jieun's body moved on instinct, her breath measured, her focus razor-sharp. Kwon came at her like a battering ram, each attack designed to break her resolve. A kick aimed for her side — she deflected it with her arm, wincing at the impact but holding firm. A punch toward her face — she ducked, pivoting to counter with a sweeping kick of her own. He barely dodged, the tension between them crackling like electricity.

For every inch Kwon gained, Jieun clawed back two, her determination an immovable wall against his brute strength. But he was relentless, his strikes faster, harder. He feinted a low kick and followed with a spinning backfist that nearly caught her jaw. She swayed back just in time, feeling the air shift from the force of his blow. The closeness of it stole her breath.

Kwon grinned, sensing the tide turning in his favor. He pushed harder, driving her toward the edge of the mat. With a sudden burst of speed, he lunged, his fist aimed directly for her chest. The crowd gasped as Jieun stumbled back, her foot brushing the boundary line.

The moment slowed.

Kwon's fist was a hair's breadth from connecting when Jieun twisted her torso, slipping just out of reach. Her heart thundered in her chest, her breath sharp as glass in her lungs. Kwon's expression twisted with frustration, his teeth bared as he reset his stance.

Jieun exhaled, her vision narrowing to the space between them. She could see the tension in his muscles, the impatience in his shifting weight. He was calculating his next move, and she would be ready.

When he charged again, she didn't step back.

Instead, she stepped forward, closing the distance in a single fluid motion. Her fist moved faster than thought, her body grounding itself as her arm shot out. The space between her knuckles and Kwon's chest was minuscule, less than an inch, but the power behind it was immense.

The impact was devastating.

Kwon staggered back, his eyes wide with shock as the force of Jieun's one-inch punch radiated through his chest. His breath hitched, his body folding slightly as though the air had been stolen from his lungs. He stumbled, grasping at empty air in a desperate attempt to steady himself.

The crowd erupted in a deafening roar, but Jieun didn't pause to celebrate. She pressed forward, her body a blur of precision and purpose.

Kwon was still reeling when she leapt, her left leg coiling around his torso in a vice-like grip. She spun with a dancer's grace, her right leg sweeping under his feet and breaking his balance completely. As his body tilted, she completed the motion, twisting midair to bring herself down with force.

Her knee struck his ribcage with a sickening thud.

Kwon collapsed to the mat, his body crumpling under the weight of her final blow. The arena seemed to hold its breath as he lay still, his chest heaving, his hand clutching his side.

The world moved in slow motion for Jieun.

She felt the vibration of her heart against her ribcage, the burn of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her eyes flicked to Kwon, watching as he struggled to rise, his limbs trembling from the effort. But it was over. His body sagged back against the mat, and the realization hit like a tidal wave.

The referee's hand shot up.

"Miyagi-Do wins!"

The crowd exploded, the sound crashing over her like a tidal wave. The announcer's voice boomed through the arena, "With the win, Miyagi-Do advances to the Tournament of Champions! Incredible!"

Her teammates surged onto the mat, their cheers blending with the crowd's thunderous applause. Jieun's vision blurred as Robby, Miguel, and the others reached her, their hands gripping her shoulders, their voices overlapping in celebration.

"You did it!"

"That was insane!"

"We're going to the finals!"

Jieun turned toward the chaos, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Somewhere amidst the whirlwind of movement, her eyes locked with Sam's. The former captain's face was a mixture of awe and pride, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Jieun felt her own emotions rising, her body trembling with exhaustion and exhilaration. She had done the impossible, not just for herself but for all of them. Together, they had defied the odds, and now they were one step closer to victory.

As the team lifted her off the ground, she let herself smile, the weight of her triumph settling in her chest. This moment was theirs, etched forever in the records of Miyagi-Do's history.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

what a fuckin ch y'all

im pretty sure the one inch punch is like... kung fu but jiji bilingual or wtv

only one episode left omg............... and then we have to wait 89 days for pt 3 UGGHHHHHH

that kwon and jiji fight was so fucking intense i got up like 8 times trying to figure out how to close it off or what to do next

and don't worry, tory and jiji are one step closer to becoming friends again.

HOW DO WE FEEL ABOUT SAM GIVING UP HER HEADBAND??? i thought it was the most perfect opportunity and it wasn't like sam gave it to her with resentment or bitterness like she genuinely thought jieun fit the role better! and i completely agree!

funny moment between chozen and jiji, idk chozen was so funny this season. but also daeun trusted him w info like that is actually crazy work but she gives off the vibes that she falls hard n fast so i guess it was pretty in character.

which reminds me, i need her to interact with jieun soon hehehhe

and completely random but when i write my chs i love listening to hoyoverse soundtracks like its so incredibly calming. then this song came up and u know how in music (especially instrumentals) every sound is it's own character? and all the sounds of the instruments make up a story etc?

this is jieun and robby's

i'm talking s1-6. like if this book were a song it'd be this one. okay i KNOW y'all hear them in this song pls reassure me and im not actually insane in the head

i also have a few more... and i can make an entire playlist of music like this that give me robby and jiji's story if y'all would like !!!!!

much love,